The Forge Knows the Difference
by Agrestic
Summary: Balimund is known for making miracles with steel, and reserves his heart for his forge. At least, until she walks by. - Just some fluff. Rated to be safe.
1. Chapter 1

"This isn't right.."

Balimund looked back to Elgrim, finally noticing the old man's frown.

"What?" He asked, unsure why the old man was turning the calcinator over in his hands and inspecting the bottom.

"Is this a joke?" Elgrim snapped, and Balimund reached out to take the piece before the old man dropped it. He turned it over to inspect the bottom and let out a soft groan.

Right in the bowl, which should have been solid, was a tiny hole. Just big enough for Balimund to push his pinky through.

"I must have missed this..." He mumbled, and Elgrim reattached his bag of septims to his belt.

"You're damn right you missed it. I'm not paying you until this is fixed, Balimund! Why the nerve..."

Balimund rubbed his eyes tiredly before setting the calcinator back on his work bench.

"Of course. My apologies, Elgrim. Look, come back tomorrow and I promise I'll have it fixed. Half price."

Elgim crossed his arms with a sour expression, but nodded his consent.

"Well. That does sound fair. Seeing as now I have to wait." And with his last nasty look the old alchemist returned to the market, leaving the Blacksmith to his thoughts. He ran his dirtied hands through his blonde hair, wondering when his block would lift and he'd be able to go back to working the way he did before...

This wasn't the first order he'd botched these last couple weeks, and he was sure that with the way things were going it wouldn't be his last...

* * *

Everything had been fine until two months ago. He'd been working on a new sword, another piece to add to his stock, when she'd walked by.

At first he didn't take notice. She had four children in tow, one girl and three boys, and spent most of the morning picking out vegetables and meat from Marise Aravel's cart on the other side of the market. He wondered vaguely whose wife she was, but then a customer had come to ask about his axes, and his attention was drawn away again.

He saw her again the next day, four children in tow, all of them smiling as they looked at the wares and talked animatedly to one another. The three boys broke off from the girls and came over to his forge, all of them ogling the swords and pieces of armor he had on display.

"Come to see Balimund perform miracles with steel, eh?" He asked, and the boys grinned.

"Did you make all these?" The blonde one asked, reaching out and touching the handle of a steel war axe. Balimund quickly reached forward and gripped the weapon to keep the child from removing it.

"That I did." He noticed the woman and the girl with her just a couple of feet away at Madesi's stand.

"When you're older you might talk your mom into buying one for you." He'd meant to say it in a friendly way, but it caused all three of the children to frown.

"Yeahh... Okay." One boy said, and they slowly trudged away, leaving Balimund slightly confused and feeling guilty. He moved around the forge, trying to figure out what he could say to cheer them up. Usually children began clamoring even louder just to touch one of his weapons, but he seemed to have completely shut these boys down. He remembered giving Asbjorn a sword when he was younger, and if he wasn't mistaken, he'd carried that thing everywhere with him until he was fourteen.

"Hey, hey." He said, grabbing three swords from the chest under his bench and holding them out to the kids. They were just small wooden ones, but the boys still beamed happily at him.

"You can get real ones when you're a bit older is all I meant. For now, these should work."

They started talking over one another excitedly as they began hitting one another in earnest with the toys. As they ran around attacking one another, the woman rushed over to him. She had her hand on her chest, and her voice seemed panicked.

"Oh no! Did you just give those swords to those boys?" She asked, and Balimund chuckled as he dug in the chest under his work bench for leather strips long enough to serve as belts.

"Aye, I did. Got their attention away from the real weapons for now." He stood up and turned, holding out the three leather strips to her.

"Here you go, Ma'am. These should work as... belts." He suddenly tensed, unable to think.

She was absolutely beautiful. An Imperial with dark skin, long lashes, and perfect pink lips pulled down into a frown. The worry wrinkles in her forehead gave her such a vulnerable look he wanted to reach forward and smooth away her concerns right then and there. She didn't look old enough to be a wife, let alone mother of four, and it took most of his concentration not to give her whole body a once over right then and there.

"I'm sorry. I... what?" He asked, dropping his arm when he noticed she hadn't taken the strips.

"Those toys... We.. We can't afford them." She explained, readjusting her grip on her basket filled with groceries.

"Oh." Balimund said, still trying to regain focus. "No, those were gifts."

The woman shook her head.

"No, no, I couldn't ask that of you."

Balimund frowned. "But you didn't. I offered. Really, it's no trouble."

In reality it wasn't. Balimund had been whittling since he was young, and carving the toys had become more of a stress relief in the evenings than anything else. He didn't drink, and he had no small children of his own anymore, so his abundance of free time usually led to numerous wooden swords, toy shields, and flutes.

"I.. I don't know what to say." She finally said, and Balimund's heart beat picked up as she gave him a small smile, the first one he'd seen from her.

She turned over her shoulder, completely ignorant to the gawking man, and called to the boys to return. They walked over slowly, already thinking their play time was up.

"Boys, I want you to thank Misterr..." She trailed off, looking at the blacksmith for his name.

"Oh! Balimund!" He said, rubbing the back of his neck as she gave him a cautious look.

"I want you to thank Mr. Balimund for giving you new toys."

"Thank you!"  
"Yeah thanks!"  
"Thanks!"

He held out the belts to them with a smile.

"No problem. These are for your swords."

They once again set off into a tirade before waving at Balimund and running off.

Not one to be rude, Balimund knelt next to the small blonde girl beside the woman and grinned.

"Would you like a sword as well?" He asked, and she shook her head.

"No. Constance just bought a new book." She said, and she blindly reached her hand back and grabbed on to the woman's skirt. "And the boys don't like to read."

Balimund chuckled. "Is that so? So it'll end up being your book anyway."

The girl smiled. "Uh huh. Pretty much."

Balimund stood and already the woman was beginning to usher the girl away, her eyes seeking out the boys who were making wild laps around the market.

"Thank you so much. You've really made them happy..." She said, trying to excuse herself as quickly as possible without being rude.

"It was nothing, Missus..." Balimund started, now trying to figure out her name before she darted.

"Oh!" She stammered, and the small blush that crept across her cheeks melted his heart. "I'm Constance. Constance Michel. I run the orphanage across the bridge."

He placed his hand against the corner of his house, trying to suppress the small lump building in his throat. Beautiful, kind, and not a mother. Just runs the orphanage.

"Is that so? Well.. It was nice to meet you, Constance Michel. And return any time. You're quite welcome here."

She grinned. "Have a wonderful day. And thank you. Thank you again!"

Fast as lightning she'd rounded up all the children and began ushering them across the bridge and back inside Honorhall Orphanage. He sat down at his grindstone as soon as the door had closed, trying to comprehend everything that had just happened.

* * *

He saw her every day at the market after that. She'd bring the children with her and pick out groceries and whatever else they'd need. The boys would wave to him eagerly before running off again, and even the small girl would wiggle her fingers tentatively at him as they passed.

Balimund had used new steel fish hooks as bait for Bolli, owner of the Riften Fishery, who stood staring at them inside the box in Balimund's hands as the blacksmith tried to pry information from him. Bolli was known to preach charity for the Temple of Mara, and knew as much as there was to know about Riften and its inhabitants.

"So... what's with that woman... you know, at the orphanage... The one with all the... kids?" He asked, and Bolli looked up at him, surprised.

Balimund had never really talked about anything but what came out of his forge, so to ask about city gossip was weird and kind of off-putting. Bolli had known Balimund for years, and they'd never had a real conversation.

"Are you talking about Constance Michel? The new caretaker of Honorhall?" He asked, and Balimund tried not to look too interested.

"Is that her name? Huh." He feigned ignorance before snapping his attention back to Bolli, almost smashing the mans hand inside the box as the lid slammed closed. "What do you mean new?"

Bolli retracted his hand quickly. He scowled at the blacksmith who frowned and quickly pulled the lid back open.

"Sorry. Just oiled these hinges. You were saying?"

Bolli didn't reach in for anymore hooks, but instead continued to stare incredulously at the man.

"Yes. Unfortunately Grelod the Kind was murdered several months ago. Constance Michel was a fellow caretaker and has now resumed full responsibility." He crossed his arms. "I'm surprised you haven't heard any of this, Balimund. Grelod's murder was the talk of the town. Such a kind old woman. I'm sure all the children loved her. Divines bless her..." He trailed off, and bent to once more inspect the hooks.

Balimund stood there patiently, shifting from one leg to the other.

"What does her husband think of this?" He asked, and he mentally groaned as Bolli sighed and slowly straightened up to look him in the eye.

"Probably nothing because she's not married."

"Oh. That's.. That's interesting. Probably engaged."

Bolli suppressed a chuckle as the situation finally sunk in. Balimund wasn't a very subtle man. It showed in the way he bragged about his merchandise, and talked openly about his use of fire salts in his forge. But he was good-natured and hard-working, and the best Blacksmith Bolli had ever purchased from.

"No, no. She's kept quite busy taking care of the children on her own. No time for a lover. In fact, she must have just gotten settled. Before this I'd never seen her."

"Me either." Balimund said, and the knowing look on Bolli's face killed his next question. He quickly set the box of hooks on his work bench and switched back into blacksmith mode, trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt.

"So, about these hooks..."

* * *

"Balimund. You have a customer." Asbjorn said, pulling the blacksmith's focus away from the metal bar he was hammering. He waited until Asbjorn passed with his bundle of wood before looking around for a customer.

His heart plummeted into his stomach and he almost dropped his hammer.

"Constance Michel. Come to see Balimund perform miracles with steel?..." He asked lamely out of habit, and she smiled at his tagline.

"Well yes, I guess so." She said, fanning away the heat as she approached him. "I hope I'm not bothering you. I didn't know how long you'd be."

He wiped his hands along his apron, hoping there wasn't too much grim on his face. He looked down and noticed that wiping off his hands had done very little to improve them. There was no hope for his face.

"Heh. Not a problem. I tend to lose the world when I'm working.. You'd have to say something to get my attention."

'_But not you. You'd just have to smile and you'd have my attention for eternity_.' He thought to himself.

"You must really love what you do, then." She said approvingly, and Balimund beamed.

"Aye that I do." They both became quiet, and he caught himself staring at her. He chuckled softly, and stepped aside to welcome her further into his shop.  
"So, what brings you to Bali- here.. Achem. What brings you here today? Repair? Purchase?"

He watched as she skipped the weaponry and armor he had out and went for the hardware area. She picked up an iron nail and held it high. With her other hand she pulled a twisted nail from her pocket, and began examining the two.

"These are the same, aren't they?" She asked, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Stepping closer, he took the two nails from her and scowled.

"Gods no." He said, and she looked slightly taken aback.

He suddenly felt contrite, and lowered his hands to explain.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it that way. This nail," He held up the twisted one. "Wasn't made very well. That's why it's all bent and useless. My nails don't wear down like this one did." He held the nails out and she took them with a frown.

"Oh, I see. But I can still use your nails can't I?" She asked.

Balimund shrugged. "I guess that depends on what you're using it for."

She pocketed the twisted nail and nervously toyed with the edge of her satchel.

"I'm trying to fix up one of the rooms at the orphanage. But so far I haven't had much luck in getting anything done. I found these nails in a bucket in one of the storage rooms, but they keep bending..."

Perking up, Balimund's mind began working quickly. She needed help fixing up a room, and who better than a master of tools?

"I could help!" He said, slightly louder than he'd intended to. Constance flinched, her expression skeptical as he stepped back and motioned to his tools.

"Heh... I can help, if you'd like. I've got all the tools you'd need, the hardware." He patted the wall behind him affectionately.

"I built this forge after all."

Constance returned to toying with her satchel.

"I don't really have to money to pay someone to do what I had in mind.."

Balimund shrugged. "I could do it for free."

She frowned and held up one finger, moving it from side to side like his mother used to do when she scolded him.

"Oh, no, no. Now, you've already given the children free toys, I can't take anymore from you." She dropped her hands on her hips and turned to continue perusing the nails. "I'll just have to do this myself. Thank you for the offer though."

Balimund smiled, already hearing the break in her voice. He could read her emotions like a book, and her determination, no matter how weak, was endearing.

"It's really no trouble. And those swords each took less than a night to carve." He walked around her, once more drawing her attention away from the nails she'd begun to focus on again.

"You're not taking anything from me. I'm sure this room is for the kids. I'm not doing it for you." He said, and in his mind he chanted to himself that every nail would be for her.

She looked up, uncertain.

"Well... It is for the kids. I just don't... Don't know what I'm doing."

Balimund beamed. "Great!" He hurried to his work bench and began selecting tools, but her commanding voice stopped him.

"How is that great?" She asked, and he paused to look at her.

"Oh, no. I just meant it's great you're letting me help you... The kids. I mean. This'll be easy." He returned to his choice of hammers, debating asking Asbjorn to take over the forge now or working on the room in the evenings.

"But! But!" She said, crossing her arms over her chest as if in defiance and cutting off his train of thought. "I insist we pay you back."

He opened his mouth to argue but she held up her hand. "I insist, Balimund."

He closed his mouth obediently, deciding that fighting with her would be pointless.

"Alright. Deal." He held his hand out, and with a hesitant smile, she shook it. She grimaced at her blackened hand afterwards, and with a small smile he watched her hold her hand as far away from her dress as possible as she returned to Honorhall.

* * *

Balimund had planned for everything. He'd come prepared with extra wood, tools, and an entire bucket of nails. Everything was going to be perfect, and he assured her several times that it would be.

Walking through the orphanage, he was surprised at home homey it felt. The walls were lined with pieces of parchment covered in ink drawings with smudges of color. Between the parallel lines of beds in the main room were book cases and chests left open filled with many things like toys and clothes. He could see the children sprawled out on their beds reading or playing cards, and the three boys Constance always brought to the market with her waved happily at him before returning to their games.

It hadn't been like this when he'd come to adopt Asbjorn...

Constance led him to the back of the hall, and as she pulled out a dull iron key to open a set of locked doors, the hall became eerily quiet. He looked back and noticed all the children were staring, every last one of them still as stone as the two adults walked into the room and closed the doors.

The small room was covered in dust and grime, and Balimund was shocked to see that the walls were lined with metal cuffs, just high enough for a child. It contrasted so vividly with the warm, inviting space he'd just been in, that for a few seconds all he could do was look around. He turned back to Constance, trying to pick the right words for his question.

She spoke first, and her voice was so soft and meek Balimund felt like he was listening to a child.

"Grelod the Kind... was not a very nice person." She said, and she looked down shamefully at her hands. "But now that she's gone..."

Balimund shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do. He wanted to comfort her, but couldn't find the right words to do it. He settled on placing his hand on her shoulder. She jumped slightly from the contact, but relaxed once he gave her a gentle squeeze.

"It's... going to be alright." He said stiffly, nodding as he took his hand back and set his equipment down. Just touching her had caused his heart beat to go a mile a minute, and she looked just as ruffled as he felt.

"Let's fix this room." He said encouragingly, and she rolled up her sleeves to help with a weak smile.

Constance didn't talk again about Grelod as they set to work, but Balimund noticed that she took to the cuffs with the wedge bar a little more energetically than was necessary. Balimund personally removed them and the doors from the building when she was finished, and from then on the children were allowed to watch.

They cut a hole in the wall low enough for the children to be able to reach, and Balimund explained they'd be putting a window in its place in a couple of days. Balimund made new floorboards and anchored several loose planks in the walls with new nails. He put up shelves and a small bench beneath the new window that opened up to show a small space where the children could hide things.

It wasn't a long project, but Balimund put his heart in to it, hoping that like the rusted nails and sharp cuffs, the bad memories would go away with the changes they'd made.

A week later he sat at one of the long tables in the dining hall across from her, a bottle of mead in his hand as he watched her fuss over a small blue curtain she was sewing for the window. Curtains weren't common in Skyrim, they served no purpose. But he couldn't bring himself to point out to her that curtains weren't the norm.

"I can't thank you enough..." She said, and he smiled at her. If he had a septim for every time she'd said thank you, he'd be able to sell his forge and retire to a manor in Solitude.

"You're welcome." He said, and watched as she bit through the thread and stabbed her needle back into its cushion.

"Done. What do you think?" She asked, holding up the small curtain. It was lopsided and the stitching was messy.

"It's perfect." He said.

"You don't mean that." She said self-consciously, waving away his compliment. He reached out and touched her hand. Her skin was cool and smooth beneath his calloused palm.

"I do mean it." He said softly, and he took his hand back with a nervous cough. After a moment, she stood, trying to hide the blush along her cheeks by examining the curtain intensely as she walked through the main hall. The children had decided to go out and play in front of the building, and Constance could see all four through the windows as she walked.

"Erm.. Do you need help?" He asked, standing and following after her quickly. She shook her head before bending and hanging the small blue fabric.

She straightened and wiped her hands on her dress, looking up at him with a smile. He smiled back, moving closer as he rubbed his hands together.

"Well, if there's anything else you need. I'm right across the bridge." He said.

She was so close he could make out a tiny scar just along her left cheek, and he resisted the urge to reach up and run his thumb along the mark.

"I couldn't have done this without you." She said, and this time it was a whisper, so soft he almost missed it. He could feel his heart beat quicken, and he swallowed thickly as he lowered his face towards hers, his eyes hesitantly flickering up to catch her gaze. She was staring back at him, her eyelids lowered and her hands toying frantically with a corner of her dress.

"Constance! Samuel broke my sword!" Came a shout from the dining hall, and both adults quickly backed away from one another as the stampede of children swarmed their caretaker at once.

Francois, a small blonde boy, turned to Balimund with a frown. "Look what he did! Can you fix it, please?" He begged, and Balimund smiled despite his growing irritation.

"Sure can." He assured, taking the snapped pieces and heading for the door. How two ten year olds could snap a wooden sword in two like that made no sense, but Balimund was too worked up and tense to ask.

He nodded farewell to Constance, and headed out the door.


	2. Chapter 2

"You're brooding again." Asbjorn said, leaning forward into his bowl to scoop more stew into his mouth.

"What?" Balimund asked, shaking out of the daze that had left him staring at the wall for the last twenty minutes. He noticed now that his own bowl had been stacked on top of his goblet, and his hunk of bread was skewered with his spoon and hanging off the edge.

"What on Nirn..?" He said, and Asbjorn chuckled into his meal.

"I did that ten minutes ago and you didn't even notice."

Balimund took down his bowl and loosened his bread, scowling at his apprentice, who only laughed harder.

"What's gotten into you lately? You're more grumpy than a cave bear who lost his honey pot."

Balimund crossed his arms and leaned back, sullen and irritated at his apprentice.

"I am not."

Asbjorn laughed. "You are too! Look at you! You look like someone stole your sweetroll!" He started chuckling again, expecting Balimund to relax and explain just why he was upset, maybe laugh a little. Instead the blacksmith stood and pushed his chair under the table before stomping to the door.

"Aww, Balimund, I was just teasin-"

The slam of the door cut him off, and after a second Asbjorn sighed and returned to his meal.

Balimund stomped over to his bench and grabbed a piece of metal and a hammer. He didn't feel like making anything, but slamming away in anger at his materials would just cost him more coin for new ones, and he didn't need anything else adding to his 'brooding, grumpy, cave bear causing' list. So he set to work on a new dagger.

It had been two weeks since Balimund had seen Constance Michel, the headmistress of Honorhall Orphanage in Riften.

Well, he'd seen her almost every day. But it had been two weeks since she'd spoken to him. She no longer stopped to say hello, and she walked out of her way to the opposite side of the market just to grab the necessities before scurrying back into Honorhall.

Balimund had been swamped with repairs, orders, and repairs on the orders he'd been botching. Even Grelka, another merchant who held a stand on the other side of the square, had stormed over one day to see what was wrong with him.

"What's the matter with you?" She'd snapped, catching him off guard as he looked up from the weapon he was working on.

"Huh?" He said, looking around to see who she was talking to.

"I'm talking to you, 'Miracle Steel'." She'd said, narrowing her glare on him. "I just took a look at that repair patch on my armor you made."

He then noticed she was wearing breeches and an old mining shirt, and that her armor was tucked under one arm.

Balimund sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a second.

"Look, I'm sorry Grelka. Just, leave it with me, I'll fix it and give you a full refund."

Grelka groaned in irritation and slammed her armor down on his bench before standing before him again.

"Listen. I don't know what's going on with you, but figure it out! You're working like shit, and I'm not the only one who notices." She turned on her heel and headed towards the Bee and Barb.

"Fix my armor, Balimund!" She hollered over her shoulder, leaving the blacksmith to weakly stand from the grindstone to fix his mistake.

It'd been like that for almost every job, and he was losing more and more business because of it. He was distracted and sad, but had tried his very best to stay away from Honorhall. It's not like he could force her to want to talk to him.

He began wiping down the surface of his work bench when a thought occurred, and he stood stone still for a moment as he let it sink in. He couldn't force her to come talk to him, so he'd just go and talk to her. Maybe he was wrong and she was just waiting for him to say something first! He threw his rag down and poked his head inside the door, seeing that Asbjorn was stretched out in a chair before the fire.

"Asbjorn!" He said, and his apprentice jumped before turning to him.

"What is it? Vampires?" He cried, and Balimund shook his head.

"No, no. I'm going out for a while. Don't wait up."

"What? Oh.. Okay." He looked down. "So no vampires?"

Balimund allowed the door to close, and chuckled as he heard the lock click into place only seconds later. He hurried across the bridge and stood hesitantly before the door of Honorhall. It was well past eight in the evening, so he knew that the doors were already locked and most of the children would be in bed by now.

Raising his arm, he knocked three times before stepping back.

The weather was pleasant, despite the nights getting longer and colder, and he didn't mind waiting in the dark for her to answer. It took a minute or so, but suddenly she was there, wrapped in a thick shawl and leaning against the open door as warmth spilled from inside.

She looked surprised for a minute, then blushed and looked away from him.

"Balimund. Is everything alright?" She asked, stepping outside and pulling the door closed. She finally looked up at him, her hands suddenly pulling at the edges of her shawl. Balimund rubbed his palms together, slightly hurt that she wouldn't invite him inside and not stand out in the cold.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. Just..." He panicked. "Curious how that room turned out."

Constance gave him a half-hearted smile.

"They love it. The girls especially. They really enjoy reading in there.. If you're here about payment.." She trailed off and the blacksmith gave a bitter chuckle.

"You really think I'd come over here just to harass an orphanage about 25 septims for nails?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck and taking a step back, suddenly angry. "You think so little of me?"

Constance looked up, her cheeks reddened by the accusation. "That's not what I meant.. At all." She pulled at her wrap until it clung even tighter to her shoulders. "I just haven't spoken to you in a while, and I just thought that-"

"That's because you've avoided me." Balimund snapped, and she glared angrily at him.

"I haven't been avoiding you!"

"Are you kidding me?" He growled, and she huffed in irritation.

"I thought it'd be easier this way. I just... every time I look at you.. After you almost kissed me.." She looked regretful, and Balimund stared at her, speechless. It was like a punch in the gut. This entire time he'd been trying to convince himself that something silly must have kept her away. A sick kid, more children to take care of, even a really bad toe fungus would have been better than this.. Better than knowing that his feelings had made her feel uncomfortable.

"So, my kiss was so unwelcome that you figured ignoring me was the best way to handle it?" He asked in a quiet voice.

Constance shook her head, staking a step forward and reaching out her hand to him. "That's not what I meant."

Balimund angrily drew back, bringing himself up to his full height and digging up the overly confident persona he adopted when shouting about his wares. He looked down on her and she pulled her hand back with a frown.

"No, that's exactly what you meant. I don't need your pity."

"That's not it. What I was trying to say was that I'd..."

Before she could say another word he turned on his heel and headed towards the bridge. He set his mind on ignoring her as she called after him, and he was almost to his door when he felt both her hands wrap around his bicep and pull. She could barely made a dimple in his arms, let alone muster the strength to turn him towards her. But there was a weakness in him now, something that needed to know, so he turned and looked at her despite that angry part of his feelings screaming at him to just lock her out and throw away the key.

"Balimund please.." In the dim light from the forge, she looked plain beautiful. He was surprised to see that she was on the verge of tears. She hovered closer to him, debating what to do, fighting some sort of inner battle with herself. He could read this all clearly on her face.

He was even more surprised when she pulled up on his forearms, and stood on tippy toes to kiss him.

It was like using fire salts for the first time all over again. Hot and dazzling, and buzzing with an unknown energy that threw him off guard and left him in awe.

He'd fallen in love when he used fire salts for the first time, too.

Despite how warm she made him, he felt how tense she was in his arms, and after a moment, he reluctantly pulled away. Her eyes were still closed, and she touched her bottom lip hesitantly with her right hand.

"I'm sorry, it was horrible.." She mumbled, and his expression fell into dismay again.

Another punch in the gut. So she really didn't feel anything. Not a spark, not the heat. Suddenly the dazzle was gone, and Balimund slowly eased her away from him so he could get some room. He wanted to smash something, but at the same time the unease in her gaze just made him feel protective. He groaned. He wanted to kiss her, and punch something, and scream, and throw himself into the canal.

"You should go.." He said, trying his best to squash the anger and shame he felt.

She began messing with her shawl, tugging it back around her shoulders as they began to shake.

"I'm sorry.. I-I've never been k-kissed before. I didn't know what to do-oo.." She said, clinging desperately to her cover as tears slid down her cheeks.  
"I know it was b-bad. I'm sorry. I'll go."

"Wait. Huh?" Balimund asked, his swirl of emotions pausing long enough for him to notice that she was crying.

"I'm sorry. I just.. When you tried to kiss me, I didn't know what to do. And then you left all angry, and I thought you were mad. So I left you alone, and then you never came back.. I'd never been kissed before. And it's not normal, for women my age to be so ignorant." She was practically unraveling her small shawl, and Balimund suddenly found himself unable to keep from smiling.

She was pacing back in forth in the expanse of two feet, and her expression was so sad Balimund felt the same way he had the first day he saw her. He wanted to smooth the worry from her forehead and run his fingers through her hair.

"So... You don't find my kiss horrible than?" He asked, taking a step forward into her space which caused her to quit pacing. She looked up meekly at him and he used the opportunity to run his thumb along her cheek and wipe away a tear.

"No! It was wonderful, Balimund. But I'm not very-"

"Shh..."

He lifted his hands and cupped her face, tilting her up so that he could press his lips to hers once more. Like before, she hesitated, so Balimund merely planted small kisses along her lips, starting from the corners and even pecking her on the nose every couple of seconds. He could feel her smile against his mouth, and finally she relaxed long enough for him to brush his tongue against hers. It was new enough that she let out a small moan, and he pressed more boldly against her, earning himself another breathlessly, tender sound as she brought her palms up and along his chest. He slid one hand behind her head and the other around her waist, lifting her up and against him as she fisted his shirt in her hands. He had barely brushed her lips with his tongue again when she pulled back with a giggle, and he opened his eyes slowly, watching her mouth turn up into a shy smile.

"What's so funny?" He asked rather breathlessly. She raised her hand and ran it over the hair on his top lip.

"Nothing. Your mustache just tickles, that's all."

He grinned and sheepishly relaxed his hold on her.

"Yeah, it'll do that."

They fell in to silence, neither one of them speaking until Constance pulled away. Balimund was tempted to pull her back and continue where they'd left off, but realized it'd have to wait once she looked over her shoulder at Honorhall. So much had just passed between them, he wasn't sure what step was next.

"I'm sorry. I should go."

"I understand. Really." He said, and she stepped closer to lean up and kiss him softly once more.

"I missed you." She gave his hand a squeeze and he gave one back.

"I missed you to. Maybe... Maybe we can try this again?" He asked, and she nodded happily.

"I'd like that. A lot." She began to step away from him, and he followed slowly until she loosened her grip and moved slowly across the bridge.

"Would you like to join us for breakfast tomorrow?" She turned suddenly and called from across the canal. Balimund nodded as he leaned against the railing next to the Scorched Hammer.

"I'd love to."

"Great. I'll see you in the morning than." She called, and she waved to him with one hand before disappearing into Honorhall.

Balimund remained where he was for a long time, trying to control the pressure building up in his chest. Everything had happened so fast he couldn't help but feel like he was dreaming. He pinched his arm, positive that he was asleep, or that he'd fallen into the forge and this was his Sovngarde, or at least some weird plane of it. When he turned around, he noticed Constance had dropped her shawl, and it rested on the ground, snug up against his forge.

He picked it up tenderly before going inside, promising himself he'd return it to her in the morning.

Over breakfast.

This was just the start.

* * *

Hope you enjoyed. Thanks for reading. :)


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